_Sir John._ Like a Woman of Spirit, Sir, a great Spirit. Give me a Box and Dice--Seven's the main, Oons! Sir, I set you a hundred Pound! Why, do you think Women are married now-a-Days, to sit at home and mend Napkins? Sir, we have nobler ways of passing time. _Just._ Mercy upon us, Mr. Constable, what will this Age come to? _Constab._ What will it come to, indeed, if such Women as these are not set in the Stocks? _Sir John._ Sir, I have a little urgent Business calls upon me; and therefore I desire the Favour of you to bring Matters to a Conclusion. _Just._ Madam, if I were sure that Business were not to commit more Disorders, I wou'd release you. _Sir John._ None----by my virtue. _Just._ Then, Mr. Constable, you may discharge her. _Sir John._ Sir, your very humble Servant. If you please to accept of a Bottle---- _Just._ I thank you, kindly, Madam; but I never drink in a Morning. Good by t'ye. _Sir John._ Good-by-t'ye, good Sir. [_Exit Justice._ So----now, Mr. Constable, shall you and I go pick up a Whore together? _Constab._ No, thank you, Madam; my Wife's enough to satisfy any reasonable Man. _Sir John._ [_Aside._] He, he, he, he, he----the Fool is married, then. Well, you won't go? _Constab._ Not I, truly. _Sir John._ Then I'll go by myself; and you and your Wife may be damn'd. [_Exit Sir ~John~._ _Constable._ _gazing after her._] Why, God-a-mercy, Lady. [_Exeunt._ [Illustration] [Illustration] _ESOP_: A COMEDY. [Illustration] [Illustration] PREFACE. To speak for a Play, if it cannot speak for itself, is vain; and if it can, it is needless. For one of these Reasons (I cannot yet tell which, for it is now but the second Day of acting) I resolve to say nothing for _Esop_, though I know he would be glad of Help; for let the best happen that can, his Journey is up Hill, with a dead _English_ Weight at the Tail of him. At _Paris_, indeed, he scrambled up something faster (for it was up Hill there, too) than I am afraid he will do here: The _French_ having more Mercury in their Heads, and less Beef and Pudding in their Bellies. Our Solidity may set hard, what their Folly makes easy; for Fools I own they are, you know we have found them so in the Conduct of the War; I wish we may do so in the Management of the Peace; but that is neither _Esop_'s Business nor mine. This Play, Gentlemen (or one not much unlike it), was writ in _French_ about six Years since by one Monsieur _Boursaut_; it was play'd at _Paris_ by the _French_ Comedians, and this was its Fate.